


Translucent Bioluminescence

by TwiceAsFrustrating



Series: Temperance in the Iniquitous Cradle [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eldritchstuck, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiceAsFrustrating/pseuds/TwiceAsFrustrating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something inside of her moves and shifts and crawls from deep within. She puts her hands under her diaphragm and pushes up, similar to giving herself the Heimlich maneuver. The lump is forced into her throat, where she can feel it coating her esophagus in slime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flutters of Bile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I am not sure what tags to add to this, so if you want to leave me a comment on what you think should be added, I would appreciate it.

College is easy for Rose Lalonde. She excels in all subjects, with art being being her ultimate forte. She would be a straight ‘A’ student, but her English professor is dropping her grade due to ‘excessive use of unnecessary language’. She finds the idea laughable  
She has been at her state university for just over three years now. She declared herself as a duo English and art major at the end of last year. The workload has not been unbearable, but it has not been simple either. It would probably fall into tedium, if she was sober half the time she was in class. Instead, she fills her water bottle with vodka or a martini depending on her mood. It makes it harder to concentrate, but she cannot stop.  
The college experience has not been a fruitless in the social bonding aspect, either. Along with passing her classes with ease, she has made many new friends. One of which is a lovely woman with short brown hair and mocha skin. She was the TA for Freshman English. She said her name was Kanaya when she introduced herself to the class. Rose went to her in the beginning for everything so she could have someone that understood her preoccupation for refined language judge her work. Kanaya loved the way she wrote and the way she carried herself. After Rose finished the class, the two of them became more acquainted on a personal level.  
There are other people she runs into often, but she is not as close to them. There is the marine biology/political science major- she couldn’t decide which she wanted more- who is a class younger than her; the computer science major, who will graduate the same year as her; but the most baffling to Rose is the chemistry major in the class right before her own; same as Kanaya. His name is Eridan and spends a lot of his time with Feferi- the marine biology/political science major.  
She can tell that he is watching her out the corner of his eyes lately. Just over the rim of his glasses when she is walking by. Or, she thought so at first. Whenever she would dart her eyes in his direction, however, his attention would be on Feferi. She raised her concerns with Kanaya once, but she was told she was imagining it. Given she had never seen Eridan actually paying attention to her more than was normal, she dropped the issue.

 

Rose is a native, so lives back home with her mother and sister. Kanaya is from out of state and lives in a cheap apartment building. The two residences are not far apart from one another, so they often end up walking home together. Rose is closer to the college. She would normally invite Kanaya inside to partake in tea, but she ran out of the liquor in her water bottle several hours ago and beginning to face the consequences. She apologizes to Kanaya, who does to pry into her reasoning for a hasty retreat.  
She closes the door behind her and turns the lock on its side. She stands on her toes, pressing her eyes against the peephole to watch as Kanaya fades into the distance. The amount she has to stretch her eye to see that rounded edge of the glass is near painful, but she does it until even her shadow has become just a memory.  
Finally alone in her little section of the world, safe from the eyes of any other human being, she falls to her knees and clasped her arms around her stomach. Something inside of her moves and shifts and crawls from deep within. She puts her hands under her diaphragm and pushes up, similar to giving herself the Heimlich maneuver. The lump is forced into her throat, where she can feel it coating her esophagus in slime.  
She loses the ability to breath as the coagulation of mucus and rot settles in her mouth. Her tongue runs through the thick mixture, stirring it and pushing it against the inner walls of her cheeks. The taste makes her want to vomit, but the mass is the only thing to come out. She spits the lump out violently, feeling as though her teeth will come unhinged from the force and she will find them in the mixture. They do not come unhinged. Not this time.  
Instead, she sees a pile of black sludge sitting in front of her. It is thick and chunky and pulsating. It is not happy to be outside of the warm innards it calls home. It wriggles on the ground and releases an inhuman screeching sound as it moves. She is not sure if it is making that sound on its own or if it is some effect of its movement, but Rose finds herself glad that no one else should be home yet. She would hate to explain that noise.  
Tentacles dripping with a viscous black tar emerge from the mass and reach for her. She doesn’t back away from it. Instead, she puts out her hands to pick up the moving substance. It wraps one of its tendrils around her wrist, and she can feel the suction cups on the underside latching onto her skin. No, not just suction cups; teeth. There are small, sharp teeth digging into her flesh where the tentacles sit.  
The pulsating mass seems to calm down once she stands up. The noise has ceased, but it is becoming more active. It expands across her left hand, threatening to swallow her whole, inch by inch. She remains calm, so as not to excite it, and heads to the kitchen.  
There is a mason jar in one of the cabinets. Rose grabs it with her free hand and measures its size. It should be just large enough to work. She places it on the counter and moves to the freezer, where she finds a very full, but open bottle of vodka. With a thankful breath, she pulls out the bottle and heads back to the counter.  
She places the tip of the head between her teeth and twists off cap, which she spits onto the ground. The drink makes a gurgling sound as she pours it into the mason jar. She can feel the thing on her arm covering more space with each passing moment. She only waits until the jar is half full before dipping her infested hand past the jar’s rim and into the liquid.  
She wants to scream. The vodka is entering her fresh wounds created by the mass’ own teeth and it is burning something deep inside of her. Something deep and primal is screaming out, but her mouth does not echo the sentiment. She decides to revel in the resumed screaming of the creature lodged on her arm in lieu of her own dismay. Last time it whined because it was upset, now she can tell it is in pain.  
It dislodges itself from her skin, slowly convulsing in the alcohol and sinking to the bottom as it contemplates what to do. Before it has the chance to regather itself and figure out what is happening to it, Rose pulls out her now free hand and slams the lid down on the mason jar. She tightens it as much as she can then goes to find duct tape. Once the silver tape is in hand, she wraps it around where the lid and jar meet several times.  
She sets down the tape and sighs. She is careful when lifting the jar, using her good hand so as not to drop and break it. The thing is still alive in there and she can see it swimming around the edge of the glass, trying to find a way out. The alcohol is not killing it, but it is a constant source of pain. She can hear the muffled, garbled screams it is releasing. That is the most she can do for now.  
She picks up the bottle of vodka and takes a quick swig. The burn of it feels good running down her throat. She wants to take it to her room with her, but it will still be there when she gets back. So, she places it on the counter and makes her way through the house with the jar.  
The door to her room is closed, and has a giant lavender ‘X’ over it. A decision her sister made when they were very young. It was supposed to be a jab at how closed off Rose was, and was supposed to keep her from going into her own room so they could spend more time together. The gesture did work, but not because Rose was dissuade by the mark. It worked because she understood her sister wanted to spend time together and bond with her. She just didn’t know how to ask. She never had the heart to destroy the symbol of her sister’s dedication.  
She turns the gold painted knob and pushes the door to her room in. It hasn’t changed much over the years, aside from a few minor bits and pieces. She had too many memories linked with the paraphernalia and couldn't bring herself to change it.  
She does not have time to admire her surroundings now, however. She closes the door behind her and makes her way to the closet. Inside is what she is looking for; a chest. She lifts the cover with her bad hand, letting the ache jolt straight to her bones from the force of moving it. Inside, there are dozens more jars, each with their own inhabitant. They are all of a similar nature and all writhing inside the alcohol filled jars.  
When this first started happening, it was one every two weeks, then one a week, then two a week, and so on. Now she is to the point where she worries about expelling one to two of these creatures every day. The only treatment she found to keep them at bay was to drink. They have an instinctive hatred of alcohol, so she tries to keep some in her system at all times. It’s terrible, she knows, but she would rather deal with that than them.  
She sets the jar down, next to the others and lets the entities sing out in a chorus of agony before shutting the lid and walking away from them. Their shrieking is horrible and could drive saints into madness.


	2. Torpid Pupation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She remembers the first time the black sludge worked its way from her stomach, up her throat, and forced itself outside of her body. She was 13. She could even call herself foolish, since she ended up doing this to herself. She should have known better than to mess with dark and unknown magic, but it was supposed to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory time~

Rose brings the rim of her water bottle to her lips and sips at the alcoholic contents gingerly. She only needs enough to keep the bile down, and she needs the bottle to last until she gets home. She is trying desperately not to move her left hand, as the wounds from yesterday's incident still have to closed. She does not know why, but marks left by those creatures take much longer to heal than normal wounds would.  
She holds her breath, feeling her drink bulge in her throat as it goes down. The entities’ dislike of alcohol seems to be rubbing off on her. As of late, the taste, smell, even the thought of the stuff has been revolting to her. She mustn't let it though. It’s the only way to keep whatever is happening in check, and that is far more important.  
She taps her pencil against the small table that is attached to her chair by a small hinge. She cannot concentrate today. Her mind is elsewhere. After this, she has to buy more jars and vodka and martini mix. This treatment is starting to become a burden on her wallet, but it is the only option she has. Since this started happening eight years ago she has not discovered any other way to deal with them.  
She remembers the first time the black sludge worked its way from her stomach, up her throat, and forced itself outside of her body. She was 13. She could even call herself foolish, since she ended up doing this to herself. She should have known better than to mess with dark and unknown magic, but it was supposed to be fun.

“Rose. Ros.” There is a loud, aggressive knocking at her bedroom door.  
Rose looks up from her spot at the desk. Roxy has been drinking again. She can tell by the slur of speech and mispronunciation of words. She loves her sister, but she wishes the drinking would stop. Their mother already spends most of the day inebriated, she does not want to see her sister follow the same path.  
Regardless, she stands up from the desk and makes her way to the door. She reaches her hand toward the knob and turns it.  
Once it is opened completely, she is left standing face-to-face with her older sister. Three years older than her, Roxy shares her basic facial features. Light pink lips, a small button nose, pale skin that is telling of an French-Swedish heritage, and short blonde hair. Of course, the shades of blonde were slightly different. Roxy was a honey blonde, where Rose was closer to cream blonde.  
There were a few differences between them aside from their hair. Their eyes are different hues of pink, with Rose’s being the darker set. She is also chubbier than her sister. Her mother says it is baby weight and will disappear in time, but she does not dislike her body the way it is. Her sister and mother are just very lithe. She doesn’t mind being the only Lalonde with ‘meat on her bones’ so to speak. Her sister is also taller than her by a considerable margin. Rose would hope to be as tall as her someday, but she is aware than she will probably always be an inch or two shorter.  
Rose does not spend long looking at her sister before she notices something is off. Not something about her sister, but something her sister is holding. In one of her hands is her traditional martini, but in the other there is a thick black book. The edges of the pages poking through the ends are worn yellow.  
Rose looks at her sister from the upper edge of her eyes, “What is that?  
Her sister lets a wide smile creep over her face and laughs while she speaks, “I found a book I think you’d like.” Her enunciation is phenomenal for being drunk, “It’s on thos creepy as heck god things you like.”  
She couldn’t tell from just looking at the book. There is no indication of what the book contains, “Where did you find it?”  
Roxy does a small, happy dance and wiggles the book in her hand, “It was in the used book store. In teh occult section.”  
Rose raises a single brow at her sister, “The used book store has an occult section?”  
“Occult, folklore and magic, same diffrence.” She sips at the martini in her other hand, before setting it on the hallway table.  
She opens the book to a marked page and holds it so Rose can see. “You can read this bit, riiiight?” Roxy questions her as she points to a section in the book. It has no markings in English, but uses Roman letters, “You’re like a little wizard.” She forcefully shoves the book into her younger sister’s hands, “Please? Just for funzies.” She wishes her sister wouldn’t drink so much. She comes up with terrible ideas the more she has been drinking.  
Part of her hesitates once she sees the words. This is a book on elder gods. This spell could be dangerous, as she knows magic is real. She isn’t ecstatic about it. She looks at Roxy’s excited face and sighs. It’s just some old book with nonsense writing that she can barely read. It won’t hurt to entertain her sister’s wizard obsession, “F'fhalma eg ah ftaghu. Llll lw'nafh im goka ah grah'n kadishtu. nglui shogg wgah'n. F'fhalma nafl’fhtagn. Ya s’il grah'n et syha'h ng’n'ghft. Y’uln f'fhalma et wgah'n shugg. Uaaah.” The words come out almost like a song. They spill off her tongue easily, like an ancient lullaby.  
Roxy look at her wide wide, questioning eyes, “What did you just say?”  
Rose shrugs, “I’m not sure. It’s ancient tongue and there’s no real trans-” Her words are cut short as she feels something inside of her shift. Her organs are on fire and her breath is leaving her lungs.  
She doubles over, dropping the book on the ground beside her as she places her hands against her abdomen and howls in pain. Whatever it is, it’s moving through her, into her throat. Her body’s instincts kick in and force her to cough up what feels like mucus.  
The force of the expulsion is greater than a normal cough should be and catches her off guard. She falls onto her butt and continues to cough, feeling the clot moving further up until it is finally outside of her.  
Whatever it is, it felt bigger when it was inside of her. Now that it was on the carpet of her room, it was barely bigger than a quarter A sludgy, dark quarter. She stares at the thing she coughed up. It doesn’t look like anything that should be in a human body. That idea only solidifies when it begins twitching.  
She screams and backs away from the wriggling mass that had come from inside her. It may be small, but it is clearly paranormal in nature. She has no idea what it does, but it is making something inside her drop.  
The sludge moves slightly, making its way toward her socked foot. It is focused solely on her, showing no interest in Roxy or anything else around them. She reaches over to grab the fallen spellbook and clenches it in her hands. It feels almost light as she lifts it in defense. She slams it against creature, trying to kill it like an insect. It does not seem to even notice it is being hit. It just continues to crawl toward her.  
She holds the book in front of her as her body shakes. She is brimming with fear and has pushed herself against the wall. There is no where else to go for her. The mass will catch her and she has no idea what it will do. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears, unable to escape and faced with whatever this thing is.  
“Rose!” She finally hears Roxy’s voice through her fear. Her sister is standing over the creature with a woven basket that once held balls of yarn and drops it down to entrap it. For a moment, it looks like it may work, until the basket starts oozing black liquid. Whatever the thing is, it is not deterred by the action.  
Rose looks up at her sister, begging for her to do something else. Roxy’s face is filled with confusion and panic. She is as lost as Rose, but she cannot stand to watch her sister in peril. She grabs the thing nearest to her- her martini- and tosses it at the creature.  
As the contents of the glass pour out over the mass, it screams an unholy scream and flails on the ground. Neither of them are sure how it is making the noise, as it seems to lack a mouth, but they do not deny the noise’s existence. Roxy and Rose look at one another for only a moment before Roxy scrambles to grab the somehow unbroken glass. She encases the creature in the upside down glass.  
There is still gin and vermouth dripping from the inner walls of the glass, and it keeps the mass in check. Roxy looks at Rose, who is still scared and paralyzed from the incident. Roxy goes about finding a better holding container, one without cracks or gaps. To make sure the thing doesn’t get excited again, she fills the container with more gin and transfers the creature.  
By the time she can finally go back to attending to Rose, her younger sister has not moved. She is still pressed against the wall, holding the book in front of her like she is frozen in that moment. Roxy brushes her hands through her sister’s hair.  
“Rose, shh, it’s okay. It’s gone now.” Roxy tries to keep her voice calm.  
Rose slowly moves her head to look at Roxy. For a split moment, she is unaware if she is really safe or just imagining it. She reaches for her sister’s face, brushing her fingers against her sister’s skin. It’s enough to remind her that she is safe. Her sister is here and the black mass is contained. She is safe.  
She leaps into her sister’s arms, wrapping her own around Roxy’s shoulders. She lets tears fall down her face and onto the back of her sister’s shirt. She is safe for now.  
That was the last day Roxy ever had a drop of alcohol, and the day Rose started.

It has been eight years since that day. She has gotten taller, but not as much as Roxy. Her skin is still incredibly pale, but it has slowly been getting darker; a sickly dark. She has lost a lot of weight. She is still not lithe, but she is more thin. It’s not because she wants to be. She has just lost most of it through vomiting up the creatures and living on a steady supply of gin and vermouth and vodka.  
They also found out the event wasn’t a one time incident. It would keep happening again and again, each time getting worse. The two of them debated what to do next for almost a month, before coming to the only conclusion they could agree on.  
The Lalonde sisters destroyed the book by setting it on fire and burying the ashes in the backyard. They made sure there was nothing else in it about what had happened. If there was something they missed, they couldn’t read it anyway. The English text was about gods and horrors, and the rest of it was in another language that they could find no translation for.  
Of course, they had to decide destroying the book was more of a good idea than a bad one. They considered that it may still have answers, but they were too afraid to let it just sit in their house. They couldn’t send it somewhere else either. What if someone else found the book and had the same thing happen to them. Though, that was doubtful, considering the text of the spell Rose had read had vanished. Still, they felt destroying it was the best decision.  
Rose had learned more about the sludge she coughed up as time went on. She learned that they dislike alcohol and it’s the only way she has found to keep them under control. Drinking it cannot stop her from vomiting up the creatures, but it can delay the time between episodes. It’s a mixed blessing, however. Drinking delays her episodes, yes, but it will also increase the size of the next creature that comes out of her.  
She discovered that they are harmless for about 30 seconds after they first exit her body, but become progressively more aggressive the more time they are separated from her. She also learned from Roxy assisting her over the years that they only have an interest in her. They will ignore everyone and everything else.  
Roxy never could leave home. She had been Rose’s support through this mess since the beginning. She couldn’t keep asking her sister to help her though. She could see the blame and self loathing in her eyes each time her sister looked at her.She wanted Roxy to move on with her life, so she started rejecting her assistance after a while. Roxy never really stopped helping completely, but Rose kept most of the episodes a secret.  
She did not let it discourage her from living, no matter how bad it got. She still went to school, participated in clubs, hung out with friends, and continued on with a relatively normal life. The only difference now was that she occasionally had to deal with paranormal sludge forcing itself out of her.


	3. Taking what I know of you

Lunch is not a relaxing time for Rose Lalonde. She has papers to write and text to read and art to create, and the stress of it is constantly threatening to eat away at what facade of ease and savvy she seemingly projects. College may be easy, but that does not mean she does not have her moments of panic.  
In her lap sits a copy of 'The Beautiful and the Damned' she has to read for American Literature. She is only half-way through the book and needs to have it finished within the next three days. She also has to write the next chapter for her novel writing class- the one where the professor is dropping her grade. After that, she must put the finishing touches on her latest painting for class, which she is planning to call ‘Imperial Omnipotent Descent of the Grand Presence, Unseen’. She has been warned that the title in unnecessarily long, but she does not believe abbreviating it would be any better. The title is as much a part of the art as the painting on display.  
Her workload is so massive that she has taken to using lunch as more time to work. She keeps meals simple, usually an apple or a bagel and her water bottle of alcohol. Today, she has chosen a plain, toasted bagel with cream cheese and a martini. The bread is not washed down well with the drink, but it keeps her functioning.  
It is a good point in the year, where the sun is out and heating the Earth, so she spends lunch outside, taking in the rays emitting from the sky. There is a short stone wall encircling the campus garden, and that is where she sits. It’s where a lot of students go during their off time, since it is still on campus, but away from most of the classes that are still in session.  
Kanaya is sitting with her, chin occasionally resting on her shoulder as she shares in reading the book. Neither of them speaks while their eyes dart across the page. This is merely for their enjoyment. She has already read the book and wishes to know where Rose is without interrupting her.  
She grabs her water bottle and moves to take a drink. It is still half full, which should be enough to get her through her next two classes. She is thankful that she is finally old enough to drink legally, or she would be more cautious about the amount she carried with her and how frequently she ended up sipping it. She just needs enough to keep a decent blood alcohol content.  
“Rose.” Kanaya reaches over to her and steals the water bottle from her grip before she can drink. Rose is unable to put up a protest as Kanaya moves the bottle’s edge to her nose and is smells the contents. Her face twists into one of disappointment before she goes back to looking at the blonde, “I was hoping I was wrong about that smell.”  
Rose reaches for the bottle, but Kanaya holds it further away from her. The panic inside of her is beginning to bubble. It isn’t anything to concern herself with at the moment, but it is there and she can feel it.  
Kanaya does not acquiesce to her silent demand for the bottle to be returned to her, “Is your water bottle always filled with soporific or simply most of the time?” When she doesn’t get an answer her eyes drop in sadness, “I would have liked to believe that smell constantly sticking to you was from being in the same house as those that abuse the substance, not from your own actions.” She stood up, still keeping the bottle away from her, “I am confiscating this. I believe you have a problem, Rose, and I cannot stand to see you go through it.”  
The panic and anxiety is building deep within her, “I can explain. Just, please, may I have the bottle back for now? Just until my classes are over.”  
The dark-haired girl does not even need to think of her answer, “No. Rose, you may not see it but you have a problem. I cannot sit back and watch you keep destroying yourself. I will help you through this, I promise, but I cannot in all good consciousness return this to you.” She turns her back to Rose and makes her way toward the water fountain.  
She can feel what is about to happen all too quickly and far too late. She jumps to her feet, letting the book fall from her lap, and paces after Kanaya in a rush. It is too late. By the time she has caught up, the Irish-Jamaican woman is already pouring her drink down the drain of the fountain.  
That panicking feeling that has been growing finally bursts inside of her. She can already feel the bile rising inside of her. Despite knowing she has about two hours, give or take 30 minutes, she is already imagining what will happen and formulating a plan. Her next class is in 20 minutes. The walk home is only ten. She could make it there and back on time if she ran.  
That’s what she thinks, until she turns to grab her backpack, “Are you going home to get more?” She stops when she hears Kanaya’s concerned voice. How was is possible she could be so easily read?  
Rose swallows the lump forming in her throat, “Yes…” She is honest. She cannot lie to Kanaya, even if she wanted to. She would be seen through in a second.  
“Please don’t.” She calls softly out to her friend. It breaks Rose’s heart when she hears her footsteps getting closer. A hand is placed on her shoulder, “Let me help you.”   
Her classes are an hour and 45 minutes each, with 15 minutes between each one. Calculating in how much time she has before her next class and how long the walk home will take, that means she has about four hours. There is no way she can go that long without a drink in her system. She debates calling Roxy to deliver some to her, but she doesn't want to cause her sister a new set of worries. Plus she is at work.  
She puts her hand atop Kanaya’s and sighs quietly, “Fine. Please just keep the theatrics to a minimum. Others have begun to stare.”  
They both dart their eyes around to look at the others who have focused their attention on the two. The expressions are filled with confusion and wonderment at what they just saw. Kanaya blushes and buries her head in her hands, attempting to hide. Rose looks at the faces of the crowd, but focuses on one is particular; Eridan is staring directly at her.   
Her skin crawls from his gaze. It’s the first time she has caught him looking at her so intently. Her flesh runs cold from his stare. Only when the girl- Feferi- next to him taps him on the shoulder does her divert his attention.

Rose is only ten minutes into her last class of the day and she can feel her insides twisting and burning. She is sober and soon she will be unable to hold back the creature. It will push up against her organs, forcing itself up though the muscles of her neck and out into the world. She has no way to contain it. Nothing to control it.  
She cannot concentrate in her class. She is too distracted by the fear of waiting too long and having the thing come out in front of everybody. She does not wish for the world to know about her circumstances. She has to get out of here. Now.  
She stands from her desk, ignoring the small glances she gets from her fellow classmates. She bows slightly to the professor to excuse herself to make a beeline for the door, shutting it behind her as she exits. The pain of the masses arrival has not begun yet, but she knows it will in only a moment.  
The nearest bathroom is just down the hall. She has to hurry before she begins vomiting up the next creature. She can already feel that it is forming inside her stomach and clawing its way up her innards. She just has to make it to the bathroom, where she can have some peace to deal with the thing.  
She sees the door of the bathroom coming into sight. It is her haven and only relief at the moment. However, there is someone else outside the door that nearly makes her stop. His arms are crossed in front of his chest as he stands up straight, guarding the door as he watches the world pass by.  
Eridan turns his gaze toward Rose and moves to push open the door for the girl’s restroom. She says nothing at his gesture, which seems to irritate him. He motions his other hand to the bathroom, “It’s empty. Go inside.”


	4. Side Effects of Forced Medication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He draws his hand back out of his pocket. Pinched between his fingers is the neck of a small, thin vile. The contents shine purple under the fluorescent lights above their heads, but has such a high viscosity that the light does not pass through.

Rose stares at the man holding open the door to the restroom. Of all places he should be, this is not one of them. Especially since he is still holding the door open for her. She doesn’t have time to make it to the other nearest restroom, however. Of course, that does not mean she is against mocking him for his position.  
“I was unaware this college employees restroom attendants. I feel as though I should be paying a more extraneous tuition for the service.” And so their first exchange that is not staring at one another, feining as if they have not, is made.  
Eridan’s face does not shift from annoyance, “Lalonde, I don’t have time for your snark. Would you like to use the empty restroom or would you prefer to find a different one? I can work with either option.” Since they has never truly spoken to one another, she had never noticed his accent. It wavered when making the ‘w’ sound.  
She was not in the position to argue with him at the moment. She needed to position herself over a toilet and fast as she felt the first signs on the mass getting ready to crawl out of her. She ducks past him and goes inside, feeling disturbed as he follows her.  
“You are aware this is the woman’s restroom, correct?”  
He does not answer her. He only stands in front of the now closed door and watches her. He does not break eye contact as he reaches into his pocket.  
“Should I be afraid that my body will be found next to the river within the week?” She plays it off as facetious, but she is growing more afraid of the man than she is of the creature that is growing inside of her.  
He is taller than her by at least a head, if not two. He does not appear to be gifted with muscles, but his insistence on wearing a sweater despite the time of year could be deceiving her. If she needed to, she could probably write ‘redhead’ as she died and he would go straight onto the suspect list. Well, maybe. Only the front, middle section of his hair burns in that strange shade of orange that everyone refers to as red. The rest of his hair is jet black.  
She could possibly mention the freckles that run across the bridge of his nose. That would give away who he is in almost an instant. If she threw in a reference to the glasses that hide his eyes, it would create an deniable account of who she was with in her final moments.  
He draws his hand back out of his pocket. Pinched between his fingers is the neck of a small, thin vile. The contents shine purple under the fluorescent lights above their heads, but has such a high viscosity that the light does not pass through.  
He holds it out to her. When she makes no motion to get closer to him, he sighs, “Are you going to fucking take it or what?”  
“I believe my preference for ‘or what’ should be clear at this point.” She has been slowly backing away from him the whole of this conversation. She cannot go far, since he s blocking the only exit. She also wants to stick her face in one of the toilets so she can expel the thing taking its precious time to leave her body.  
He let’s out a sigh of deep frustration and steps towards her. Her muscles stiffen as her sympathetic nervous system begins to kick in. She knows now that her body is going to opt for a fight-in-order-to-take-flight response. She needs to be able to get out the door.  
Her stomach is going to fight her on that front, however. It is twisting and raging already. She wants to push past Eridan so she can escape, but she can’t bring herself to go further from the toilets than she already is. Her legs are telling her to drop, as the thing inside of her finally decides it wants out.  
It takes her body about three more seconds to decide it would prefer the toilet. She covers her mouth mostly for dramatic display to fool Eridan into thinking she is simply ill- and turns toward one of the stalls.  
Before she can close the door behind her to put some kind of barrier between the two of them, she feels hands pulling back on her shoulders. Eridan is bringing her head toward his chest, ignoring her futile struggle to break free from him.  
He places his hand under her chin and tilts her head back until she is left staring straight up and into the eyes that feel like they are piercing through her very soul. His thumb travels up the curves of her face, stopping to press against her lips. He runs it across the length of her lips, following the rise in the midsection and falling into the corner of her mouth.  
Rose twists her head to the side so his thumb sinks deeper into her mouth. Once she feels the upper edge of the organ brush against her teeth, she bites down. It feels as if her teeth do not even break the skin, despite the fact that she is biting as hard as she can. It’s as if his skin is made of hardened bone and unwilling to give to her.  
He forcefully shoves his thumb into the crook of her mouth and pries her jaw open from the bottom. The look of disgust on his face in evident, “You’re kidding me. Your fucking teeth haven’t even come in.”  
That line confuses her. She would comment on how her last adult tooth grew in by the time she was eleven or on how he was correct- in that her wisdom teeth hadn’t ever come in- but she was unable to talk as he held her jaw open.  
Meanwhile, her stomach is ready to tear itself apart. She whines, hoping he will give in and let her go. The creature is going to come up and she can’t control the situation like this. She cannot even imagine what he will say when he sees it happening. She will not have to imagine it either. The mass bubbles at the back of her throat and pours across the back of her tongue as it comes up through her esophagus to greet the surface.  
Eridan sticks two of his finger further down her throat until the tips are dipping into the rising bile. Out the corner of Rose’s eye, she can see him uncorking the vial in his other hand. He brings it to her mouth. Now under her nose, she can tell the thick liquid inside the container has no smell. She can’t even say if it has an absence of smell. It’s more like a smell does not even exist.  
Her jaw is still forcibly being held open as he pours the liquid down her exposed throat. There is much more of it than she initially thought. What should have been no more than a few ounces felt like nearly a liter filling up her mouth.  
It would be amazing that her mouth could hold so much liquid if she hadn’t realized it was slowly dripping into her stomach. The mass that had been blocking the path was backing down, going back into her stomach.  
He only stops pouring the liquid when her throat is free of all obstructions. Once the last of the liquid has been consumed, he releases her jaw. She coughs and sputters, but nothing comes out. Her skin burns then freezes, but she does not feel hot or cold. It feels as if bliss is running through her body.  
Her mind is groggy from the drink. As Eridan releases her, she stumbles to the side and catches herself against one of the restroom stalls. He does not move to help her up, as he is more concerned with covering the vial back up and putting it away. Rose takes a quick glance before it is gone. The container is still full, seeming as if it had not lost a single drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I am getting somewhere. I think I have to change the tags for this series now. *sighs*


	5. Let the Story Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I meant to do this. I really did. I was busy.

Rose rolls her head back. Her body is too heavy for her to move it. She cannot bring her legs to support the entirety of her weight, so she stays leaning against the wall of the stall. He curls his lip up, which she notices. She wants to make a comment on it, but she cannot even think that much.  
She nearly doesn't notice when Eridan bends down and wraps his arm under her own. Her sense are confused as much as her mind is. He feels cold. So very cold. It’s as if he is a fish, long dead and frozen to keep it fresh. His skin is unnaturally smooth, as if he were born just now. Despite that, she feels heat and pain around the areas where he touches her. Not the exact area, only the area around it. She cannot place her emotions or reactions. She is merely letting this happen, as she lacks the strength to fight against it.  
He says something, sounding frustrated and filled with anger, but she cannot make out the exact words. Her consciousness is slipping away from her, drifting away like a long forgotten dream. She let’s her eyes close and follows the forgotten dream. As she does so, it feels as if she is falling and will not wake up before she hits the ground.

Rose’s eyes twitch under their lids. Her body still feels heavy and groggy, but the feeling has dampened quite a bit. She slowly curls her fingers. Her joints feel unusually relaxed. Through the fog of her mind, she can tell that her body is refreshed.  
She attempts to turn onto her side, only to have a voice cut into her haze, “Don’t move.” The voice is high pitched and sounds like a melody.  
She stops moving and opens up her eyes to see where she is. She couldn't tell with her eyes closed, but she is not laying on anything. Her body is floating in the air, seeming to dangle from unseen threads in the middle of the room. Once the shock of her situation dawns on her, the threads snap and she falls to the ground below. It is not a long fall, but the landing is still unpleasant.  
She hears snickering from the same direction. Her head snaps to look in the direction of the sound. It’s Eridan that is laughing at her. The short, chubby girl next to him has her cheeks puffed out. Her waist-length black hair spills out around her, bunched up in curls that make it look as if she has just come from the ocean and hasn’t dried off. Her face is round and full and her eyes sparkle wherever they look. Much to her delight, the girl- whom Rose recognizes as Feferi- hits him in the side of his torso. It is a mocking hit, but she appreciates the gesture.  
Rose stares at the two of them with confusion and ire, “Would either of you care to explain what is occurring?”  
Feferi is the one to step up. It is not as her that Rose is upset, but one could never guess by the way nervousness decorated her face, “Well, you see-”  
“You don’t have to explain to her, Fef. She’s the one that was too stupid to figure this out on her own.”  
Feferi snaps her head at him, her eyebrows tilted down in frustration, “Your face is what’s stupid.”  
His mouth gapes at her. He points at himself and begins to shout, “Of course this face is stupid. All human faces are stupid.”  
She hits his side again, “Human faces are not stupid. Only yours is.” Her cheeks puff up as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.  
“You only say that because you’re infatuated by that one lisping human.” At this point, they have completely forgotten about Rose’s presence, so she sits and waits for them to finish this overly complicated and needlessly melodramatic argument.  
“You say, even though I know I see you checking him out too.” She is still pouting, but her eyes light up. She has found a kink in his argument, and she plans to exploit it for all it’s worth.  
“I would never stoop so low as to find some human appealing. And don’t you dare ask that question I know you’re going to, because I know that you already know what I’m going to say.”  
“I have to. Do you want us to create a paradox? You don’t have to answer, because the answer better be no.” Feferi’s lips curl up into a wicked smile, “What color are his boxers?”  
All the while, Rose sits and waits patiently for them to finish up. This argument makes zero sense to her. She isn’t sure if it’s even an argument anymore, as Feferi is clearly winning whatever it is.  
“I don’t have to-”  
“Yes you do. ‘Ai.”   
“Yellow and black stripes. They are the dumbest bumblebee patterned creation I have ever seen. They are also a size too small. I’m almost certain they belong to his brother, but he grabbed them by mistake that day. They both share the same horrible fashion sense along with the tiny room. And furthermore-”  
“Zhro.” As the word leaves Feferi’s mouth, Eridan stops rambling. He looks mortified, so much so that it seems he will fall apart where he stands. At least he has finally gone silent, “That was way more than I asked for, but I knew that would happen so… I guess we’re good now.” Her cheery smile never once leaves her face.  
She turns on her heels towards Rose. Her expression changes to shock as their eyes meet, “I forgot you were here.” She mutters something under her breath that makes it sound as if she’s blowing bubbles underwater, “Umm… What have we explained so far?  
Rose gives the two a long hard look over before continuing, “That you both have a complicated relationship, likely due to some kind of built up sexual tension. Also, that you two apparently have the same taste in men, and Eridan has seen enough of him to know intimate details about his boxers and room.”  
The laugh that leaves her is the mixture of a caffeine high and a terrible acid trip. So destructively beautiful and wonderfully repulsive, “That hasn’t happened yet. I think it does next month, but I’m not good with keeping track of what timeframe my consciousness is in. Besides, it’s more like they’ll get so angry at one another and somehow end up sleep together. Eridan tells me all about it the next day, since I make him.”  
And the tangents continue. Feferi has a bad habit of getting off track, “That is interesting, but you keep speaking in future tense. Has it happened yet or not?”  
She shrugs, “Yes and no. It hasn’t from your perspective, but it has, is, and has not from mine. I’m in every moment of time I will ever be in simultaneously, so it gets confusing.” She points to the man still frozen from embarrassment over his confession, “Eridan is better at it than me. He can actually keep track of where and when he is. It’s how we found you.” She gets closer to Rose and kneels in front of her. From the shorter distance, Rose can see into her eyes. They reflect an endless, maddening void, “You’ve been hiding for eight years. We had to wait for you in the first spot we knew we would meet you. It’s been a very long time, Grah'n.” Her hand moves to brush a stray hair away from Rose’s face. It is frozen. Her body radiates no heat.  
Rose feels a chill run through her veins. Her mind tells her to run, but her body is trapped in place. Not a single muscles twitches when faced with those eyes; even her heart feels like it has stopped.  
She is only able to breath in relief when Feferi is forcibly pulled away from her. Eridan has her by the shoulders and is creating distance between the two, “4/10. That is more terrifying for her than comforting.”  
The sound that leaves Feferi is a disappointed shriek, “Really? I thought I was doing so well. How am I supposed to take care of my larva if I’m scary?”  
“You don’t. You know you will end up spending very little time with her until she is ready. Just leave her to me.” He brushes her hair back with his fingers.  
Her face is filled with skepticism, “Promise not to hurt her.”  
“No more than is necessary or is unavoidable. I promise.”  
She nods at the words, “Fine. I’m trusting you to take care of her.” Her gaze turns back to Rose, as her smile widens. It’s the first time she has noticed, but Feferi’s mouth is filled with what appear to be shark teeth, “If he does anything, let me know.”  
All at once, her presence fades.  
Eridan lowers his hands to his side and looks at Rose, “Get up. You look pathetic sitting on the ground like that.”  
In defiance, she does not move, “Neither of you have explained yourselves, and I believe I have been very patient.”  
He moves towards her, stopping to stand over her. He is intimidating, eyes filled with spite and hatred. He does not make a move to touch her however, “I thought you were smart, Lalonde. Feferi told you enough.” A smile cracks across his face. He has the same teeth as Feferi, but smaller, “Not human, present in all places we will ever be all at once, cold to the touch, and make your heart sink. What are we?”  
She knew the answer. She believed in it and knew it was always there. She just didn’t believe it was happening now and to her. She swallows the lump in her throat and separates her lips to speak, “Horror terror…”  
His skin darkens and his eyes shift to a strange, swirling purple mist, “Guess you do have some intelligence in that brain of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will be explained in the next part.

**Author's Note:**

> I will add more tags and characters as this goes on. I honestly have no idea where this is going, but I am excited. My brain is making plans already.


End file.
